


Preventing General Glauca

by MeinNameIstJette



Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy XV, Kingsglaive
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Great War, lazy ass writer, mentions abuse, mentions of Mors x Cors, mentions rape, more pairings to be named as the story goes, will add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-07-20 23:17:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinNameIstJette/pseuds/MeinNameIstJette
Summary: What if Titus Drautos didn't become Glauca?What if he had met the right people at the right time who allowed him to follow a different path?Not everything is written in the stars, or in this case by the Astrals.





	1. And So It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my friend Christie who took the time to edit it and give me constructive criticism on my first chapter. It took me ages to write chapter 1, mostly because I'm an impatient writer and I want certain things I have planned to happen. I am going to apologize ahead of time for my irregular updates and....if I possibly drop off the face of the planet. I am terrible at consistency and am a slave to RL and my devilish writers block. 
> 
> Last and foremost! I hope that whoever decides to read this enjoys it! I took some liberties and messed around with the timeline a bit but then again, this isn't really accurate to the game since I'm changing things for my own benefit, haha.

The port of Sennheim was a beautiful one, known for its rich trading history within Lucis and always one of the busier ports of Eos. The area’s main industry, besides housing the Lucian Navy and fishing, was tourism. The remnants of old Solheim architecture were found around the edges of the city; spiralling walls that used to fortify the port town from outside attacks and which were still impressive to this day. Because of its economical might, the town made it a point to tend to their ruins with care equal to their gorgeous modern municipal building located at the heart of the village. There were many who believed even that new structure was built from the remains of Solheim. 

Perhaps the culture wasn’t as rich as that of Galahd or Insomnia, but it was still distinct and it was still there. That was just one of many things Titus appreciated of his hometown. Of course, it helped that he came from a well-off family known for its ancient ties to the region as protectors. 

On this particular day it was both the 120th anniversary since the crystal-generated wall had been erected, and a reluctant ceremony to bid it adieu. A decree from Insomnia had been sent to the officials of Sennheim ‘politely’ informing them that the wall would be receding to the very near outskirts of Insomnia. 

There had been no warning or even any allowance to try and persuade Mors to reconsider his decision. Most- if not all- citizens of northern Cavaugh and Galahd knew that this was essentially a death sentence, there was no way they would be able to fend off attacks from the Empire. 

Currently, the streets of Sennheim were packed with frightened, angered, and worried citizens. It wasn’t difficult to feel the nervous energy of what this day represented for thousands, and potentially millions, of people. Titus had refused the order to help the Crownsguard who had arrived on train from Insomnia to patrol the streets to keep any protests or riots at bay. In part, he hoped that there was a riot, one so out of control that the Crownsguard would have difficulty calming it. However Titus knew this was a vindictive thought, and one that would hurt his own people more than it would the Crownsguard on patrol. 

His parent’s house was located on the side of an incline that overlooked the piers and docks lining most of the coast of Sennheim. It was from here that Titus had a perfect view of the stage that had been set up on pier number six for the representative of the Crown to make their address to the crowds. The stage was decorated in the royal colours and insignia, the skull a reminder of the death that would succeed this event. A good amount of money had clearly been put into the decor, another point that fed Titus’ already rising anger. Why waste money on a monarch that showed how worthless his subjects outside of Insomnia were to him? 

The night before Titus had momentarily entertained the idea that the expensive stage would look better in flames… much in the way he wished King Mors’ throne would light on fire with him sat upon it. Thoughts that would certainly have him tried for treason… although if he could spit in the face of the King for the inevitable suffering many people in the northern part of Lucis would soon have to endure, he would. Happily.

How was it fair to leave a large population of a kingdom undefended and with no means to do so after the main line of defence retreats? In Titus’ eyes, it wasn’t fair. The Crown held a duty to its subjects and for the last 120 years they had upheld it….but now what? They weren’t worth the trouble? 

Ironically the day was a beautiful one, showcasing the stunning sights the village had to offer, the sunlight eager to mislead people into thinking that perhaps this decision made by the King wasn’t as terrible as it sounded. Titus knew that was wrong, no matter the impression the day was trying to convey. 

This particular royal appointee was dressed from head to toe in official black Lucian robes. He wasn’t an exceptionally impressive fellow, but one that seemed accustomed to the motions of disappointing the greater Lucian population- or so Titus believed. He watched as this man ascended the metallic stairs to the left of the stage, not in a hurry, but with a slow determined walk. The murmuring of the crowd falls silent as this man makes his way to the black oak podium with the encrusted royal seal on the front. 

Even from where Titus stood, he could tell the official was nervous. The man had already been greeted with intense outrage and resistance in Galahd, and honestly Titus hadn’t been surprised when he had read the news coming from the island.To compare that to what was being reported in Insomnia as well- ludacris. A part of him wishes he could have seen it and then been able to see the trembling messenger that would have had to deliver the news to King Mors himself. 

His thoughts are silenced as the sound of a voice clearing itself echoes through the microphone. 

The entire crowd falls deathly silent. The silence even startles the appointee who had expected yelling, screaming and wailing. Titus didn’t think it was possible to get quieter. It seemed even the birds flying over the piers had gotten the memo and had fallen eerily still. The official straightens behind the podium and extends his arms out towards the people. 

“People of Sennheim! I come to you with a heavy heart. For today is a day that will mar the pages of history. The wall has been a standing force in not only protecting territories of Lucis, but upholding the longstanding peace of Eos.” 

It was here that Titus couldn’t help but scoff and roll his eyes. The illusion of peace was more accurate; the retraction of the wall would just reveal the true political climate of Eos. The wall on its own was contradictory to that statement, especially with how volatile Niflheim continued to be. It was Lucis’ job to flex her muscles to keep her northern neighbour at bay but it was clear that the Crown felt it more convenient to lay back and watch as their citizens cower, unsure if they’ll be attacked tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. 

“The decision was not made lightly, nor does it mean that the capital has any intention of abandoning its outlying territories. Once Lucian, always Lucian! This will be the attitude we all maintain moving forward.” 

There were no cheers, no applause, nothing. This was of course, to be expected. However, the silence seemed to unnerve the official even more. 

The mute stillness dragged on, to the point that the official meekly leans forward to possibly say something more... that was, until a woman’s voice breaks the silence.

“What about our children?!” Her voice carries despite her position somewhere in the large mass of people crowded around the stage. With the silence broken, the questions start to come one by one in an anxious and overwhelming rush.

“Why is the navy pulling out of Sennheim?” 

“Who will protect us?” 

“Is the King sending a military force?” 

“What about Niflheim?” 

“Will we be safe?”

It was question after question, to the point that it looked as if the Lucian official was ready to either vomit from the sheer stress of the situation, or make a quick retreat before things could get worse. Titus straightens up as he moves away from the balcony railing he had been perched at. They were all good questions. Questions that would go unanswered because it was clear that the answers emphasized a dark future. A far too near, far too likely, dark future. 

It’s the crackling sound overhead that pulls Titus from his thoughts and draws the attention of the crowd away from the Lucian official. The overarching, familiar, comforting blue-ish barrier that had protected Sennheim for so many years shatters before their eyes without hesitation. For a brief moment it looks as if the magic is raining down on them before seconds later all signs of the King’s magic disappears from the area completely. 

The retraction was much faster than even Titus could imagine. He had thought it would take at least the day, or perhaps wait out the night to give them a fighting chance against the daemons. No, it was clear the King had intended to pull it back as soon as it was made official. 

His blue gaze falls on the crowd below. Hushed, horrified whispers crossed from person to person on the pier, steadily growing into cries of desperation. It was clear that Mors’ messenger hadn’t stuck around to bear witness to the chaos that would soon ensue. 

The disappearance of the wall had chilled the air in Sennheim, and the crushing implication of what just occurred was setting in as a foreboding feeling of dread raked across the city. It had seemed surreal just five minutes ago...but now Titus could feel the anger burning inside of him, knocking the air from his lungs. The beautiful port town had been thrown into a battle unarmed and disoriented, and there was no turning back now.


	2. Fire, Lightning, and Oil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all a big thank you to my friend Stevie, who not only edited this chapter while I was working but also sat down with me to help clear up some things to make this readable!! So HUGE THANKS!! Couldn't have done it without you. ;-; 
> 
> Secondly! Big thanks to those who've read my story and were kind enough to give me kudos too! It really means a lot. 
> 
> Thirdly, I should mention that a good portion of this reality came about from a role-play with a fantastic Cor Leonis that I have : @ArchangelUnmei. I wanted to give them a shout out for letting me take our ideas from rp but make it heavily Titus Drautos centric, or rather delve deeper into the lore I've created for him? xD 
> 
> I also want to make note that at this point in the fic Titus is only 18 years old and Cor is 15 years old. So they're both very young and aren't veterans of war just yet. Plus they both have a lot to learn and of course we want to see Cor in all his hubris. Am I right?!?! 
> 
> Anyway! Thank you guys for coming back to read some more or if it's your first time I do hope you stick around! : ) 
> 
> I'm always game to talk headcanons and/or plot ideas for those curious or just wanting to talk. 
> 
> And now, for the chapter!

Titus had been right all along. 

The stage looked much better on fire. He watched as each flame licked at the metal, wood, and the black Caelum decor that had remained after the appointees retreat. The heat reflecting the raging inferno inside of him and yet calming him the more the structure moaned in protest to its untimely demise.

Was he recklessly taking out his anger? 

Yes, most definitely. And, for once, Titus didn’t care. He didn’t want to restrain himself and without the looming presence of his abusive father breathing down his neck, he could do as he pleased. 

Times had changed and there was no going back no matter how much many of them wanted to.

It’s the sound of voices that has Titus picking up the fire extinguisher he had brought down with him. He hardly needed anyone knowing it was a Drautos that set fire to the stage. He needed to be the pristine image of composure even in the face of this terrible betrayal. 

Luckily, the fire hadn’t had time to grow too big and so putting it out barely took any time at all. When the owners of the voices arrive they look relieved to see him. 

“Beat us to it, huh, Titus.” One of the men says as he smiles wearily at him. 

Titus’ expression remains quite neutral as he regards the two men. “Couldn’t have it getting out of control.” He settles on, not admitting that he was the perpetrator. 

Another man nods looking grim. “Watching it burn completely would have been a satisfying feeling.” 

Titus tries not to agree with that sentiment even though he desperately wants to. “We would risk burning down the pier if it got that big.” 

“We might as well be the proponents of our own demise. Why wait for the Niffs?” The same man asks as he cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms over his wide chest.

Titus snorts. “Very tempting proposition. I think I’d rather give the Empire a run for their money. Show Insomnia that even though they’ve left us defenceless we are far from weak.” 

“Not a surprising statement from you.” The first man comments as he now smiles fondly at Titus and moves to clap Titus on the back. “How’s your mother holding up?” 

Titus’ lips thin. “The usual. No change. Never any change.” He then sighs. 

The two men regard Titus sympathetically before glancing one last time at the fire damaged stage. 

“Since you have this under control. We’ll leave you be. It’s quite late and I’m sure our wives are probably wondering where we got to.” The first man explains. 

Titus tries for a smile but it doesn’t make it across his features. “Good night. I’ll stick around to make sure we don’t have a repeat.” 

“Thatta lad.” The second man grins not at all put off by Titus’ dismissal given who his father had been. Then both men turn and stroll off, fading the further they walked. 

Titus watches them until they disappear before turning to look at the seared structure. His brows knit together, briefly wondering if he could chance a second attempt at letting it burn. The weight of the fire extinguisher grounds him and he turns away from it. 

The message was sent... Even if the stage wasn’t as destroyed as he hoped it to be, Insomnia would know her crimes. 

\---

The walk home had been quiet. That is, if you didn’t count the moaning of the daemons in the background. A part of Titus wonders if the old Solheim ruins were keeping them at bay, making sure they don’t cross the threshold of their small town. He made sure to hide the fire extinguisher he had been carrying with him in the garden shed before stepping into the house. 

If it hadn’t been so late, Titus would have announced himself to his mother, instead he creeps up the stairs to his bedroom and silently closes the door. 

His room was simply decorated. There was a single bed to the left side of the room, pressed against the wall and nestled just to the side of the doors leading out to the balcony. On the opposite wall was a desk with a couple of photos of Titus and his mother and one specifically of him during one of his first Crownsguard held recruitment tournament. 

He had refused the referral letter that would have allowed him to go train with them in Insomnia. His distaste for the Crownsguard apparent even then. His attention is barely on that photo as he moves to peer out of the doors leading out to the balcony. 

Titus rests his forearm against the doorframe as he stares out, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the window, noting the frown that seemed to be perpetually marring his features. There wasn’t much to be happy about right now. He’s sure many others were sporting the same expression. 

It was still quiet and Titus’ couldn’t help the feeling he had from the announcement earlier that day rise back up inside of him. There was something terrible on its way. 

It’s that feeling that has Titus pushing away from the doorframe and moving closer to the centre of his room as he starts shedding his clothes. He pulls on a pair of sleeping shorts before stepping into his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. When he steps out his line of sight falls on his grandfather’s sword resting on its holder. 

He stares at it for an impossibly long time before going over to grab it and bringing it with him to bed. It was better to be safe than sorry, in his opinion, even if he was being paranoid. 

Once settled in bed, lights off, and sword resting to his right, Titus closes his eyes hoping to find some sleep -- which, eventually, he does. 

\----

There was a loud thunderous crash that not only shook the foundation of the house Titus was currently sleeping in, but did a spectacular job at startling him awake. He’s up, sword in hand, and looking confused. Through the window panes of the balcony door, Titus can see the flash of what looks like lightning. And yet, there were no clouds, no wind, and the ocean was fairly calm for what he assumed should have been a storm. 

Had they accidentally called Ramuh to come protect their little village? 

There are several more thunderous earthshaking crashes before Titus can see fire erupting in different areas of the Sennheim. That was more than enough illumination in the dark streets for Titus to catch sight of the Imperial airships and the troops jumping down in what seemed like droves. 

Titus’ heart was pounding in his chest as he stares out at the scene he had predicted. He had known this was coming, however, he had expected it to take longer, for the Niffs to give them some time to adjust to the lack security. Clearly that had only been wishful thinking. 

There was another crash that nearly shakes his house off of its foundation and Titus off of his feet. He manages to catch himself against the wall and seconds afterwards the power goes out. He can hear the creak of the front door, how it moans as the pressure behind it becomes too much. It splinters and snaps in half, that is what Titus assumes. The snapping of the door echos through the house, lasting much longer than it seems it should before a second, strange whirring sound can be heard. The sound itself wasn’t loud but what followed it was the unmistakable crash of iron clad footsteps storming into the threshold. In reality, all of this occurred much too quickly to give Titus any time to properly register the fact that his very own house was being attacked.

Titus’ isn’t sure how many of them had come in but he has enough time to pull his sword free from it’s sheath before the first one reaches his room and descends upon him. A jagged looking sword appears in his periphery forcing Titus to defend himself, his mind barely registers the unnatural barings of his attackers, evidence of the fact that they couldn’t possibly be human. Titus blocks it, pushing the hilt up to redirect the attack away from him. 

The jagged sword embeds awkwardly in the floor but that doesn’t seem to slow down the creature; it pries it out with ease and slashes upward. Titus manages to step back but not quickly enough. The sword cuts a crooked line, from his upper left cheek to the middle of his forehead on the left side, just barely missing his eye. 

As any head wound, blood pours out making it seem worse than it actually is, hampering his vision. Two more join the first one in his room and, if things couldn’t have gotten worse, Titus catches sight of a few more making their way down the hall, his blood running cold. 

His mother. 

Titus roars, the hesitation from the surprise attack gone, as he drives the hilt of his sword into the thing’s face. Hee slides his other hand around it’s helmeted head, grabbing it and slamming it down. He then swings his sword down in a perfect arc as he cleaves the creature’s head from its neck. 

He doesn’t have time to pause or breath as he takes out the second and then third just as swiftly. All the years of training evident in that quick exchange. 

Titus wipes at the blood on his face as he races out of his room, takes an extremely sharp right anddrives his blade deep into the soldier still in the hallway and moves on. Even though the night had started off relatively peacefully, the chaos from this attack had summoned Ramuh’s wrath. What shook the house was no longer the sounds of bombs dropping but the loud boom of thunder, a lament for the injustice that was occuring in Sennheim. 

The lightning seemed to illuminate his mother’s room the moment he stepped in: a testament to how cold Titus felt seeing the splatter of HIS mother’s blood on these lifeless and demonic faces. 

She hadn’t even screamed….

Titus can’t even remember how he had dispatched the two soldiers in the room or when he had sheathed his sword so he could cradle his bloodied mother against him. There was no life in her, then again, after his father’s death there hadn’t been much life in her either. She had been a zombie and if it hadn’t been for Titus’ urging, she might have perished a long time ago. 

However, it didn’t stop the fact that Titus felt cold. There were no tears but his heart ached because her actual death, on top of the situation Sennheim found itself in, was somehow symbolic of the ending of this chapter in his life. It drove the point home: nothing would ever be the same.

Titus doesn’t really have time to mourn her physical death although he’d technically been mourning her emotional one for years. The screams and destruction outside seemed muted as he lifts his limp mother’s body off the ground and, with such care, lays her down on her bed as if she had been sleeping all along. 

He takes in the sight of her once and not for long before he turns his back to her. Titus remains poised there for what feels like hours, knowing full well he should go but refraining to do so feeling the finality of that action. Eventually, he straightens completely and without looking back, walks right out of his house, only stopping to slip on a pair of boots and a warm enough jacket. 

If it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they were going to get. And, if Titus survived, he’d make sure to pay King Mors a personal visit.


	3. The Wounded Lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick warning : I didn't edit this mostly because it's taken me two months to write and I'm at the point that I just don't want to look at it. A part of me hates it but another part of me doesn't. xD
> 
> I will edit it later. I promise but right now....have chapter three!
> 
> I guess we'll see where this takes us next. :L

It had been two full days and nights of fighting. Titus had managed to find a large enough group of willing fighters to help him hold down the town’s defences. Large being quite the understatement of the century. However, there was always one question lingering in his mind. 

Where were the Crown trained fighters? 

Most of the men and women who were prepared to handle a situation like this had left with the Crownsguards. The couple who had remained were helping Titus conjure up miraculous offensives. And miraculous was being generous, most of their asinine plans shouldn’t have pulled through and yet somehow they had. It was as if Bahamut himself had found the attempt admirable enough to lend a hand, which was more than he could say about their patron goddess Leviathan. 

And, if things couldn’t be more dire, resources were scarce. King Mors had recalled a good many of the military supplies they used to store in Sennheim. That had been done months before the release of the official statement announcing the walls retraction. Honestly, Insomnia shouldn’t have bothered with an official statement, pulling military resources was enough of a sign of what was to come. 

If Titus could have predicted this outcome he would have stolen as many supplies as he could afford to hide away. Although, with the nature of the attack, and how quickly the Imperials had descended upon Sennheim, he knows he wouldn’t have had time to move the supplies or fortify them on his own. 

The good thing was that there wasn’t enough time to get frustrated by that fact. It was do or die and Titus didn’t intend to die just yet. If there were any way of saving his town, then he would go to the end of Eos to achieve it. 

It had only been two days and the Imperial troops had managed to decimate the town into what could only be described as a living graveyard. There were certain buildings that were relatively recognizable but Titus was blown away by the destructiveness of this take over. Sennheim had no defences, no real defences, there was no reason to come in with such unyielding force. 

He had quickly grown accustomed to finding bodies, that at one point he would say he had known fairly well, strewn in different areas of Sennheim. There was no time to move them, not with the robotic acting troops that were constantly patrolling different parts of the town.

Ironically enough, the pier and the large fountain with a beautifully decorated Leviathan were some of the few structures that still stood. It was the sight of this stone Leviathan that greeted them each dawn from their stronghold but it also taunted them, for the docks where were the Imperials had amassed most of their forces. It was also the docks that Titus hoped to get to, eventually. Even if it meant death.

That is why it was to no one’s surprise that Titus led a good many attacks on the Imperials himself. It was even less of one the times he would go out on his own to deal with things. A part of Titus, preferred his solo missions, he didn’t have to worry about the safety of others and that allowed him the freedom to be as reckless as he needed to be.

That was why he didn’t have a problem heading out early that morning to get things done.

\---

It was quite late when Titus returns to the stronghold. He was exhausted and he was covered in oil. However, it was clear that he wouldn’t be getting that much rest because the moment he steps inside he can see the frantic bodies moving around. 

The place was illuminated by candle light and Titus could see the group of men and women standing over their poorly drawn map of the town. It’s one of the older looking men that spots Titus and he’s motioning for the boy to come over. 

“What’s going on, Odda?” Titus asks as he steps towards the table where a large red circle is drawn in the centre of Sennheim on the map. 

“We got word that a group of civilians are being held here. They haven’t been taken by the Niffs just yet. If we can get to them before that happens, then we’ve just saved some more lives.” 

Titus stares at the red circle, brows knit. “How much time do you think we have?” 

Odda shrugs. “It’s clear they’re not about to move them during the night but if we strike it’ll have to be early enough in the morning.” 

Titus nods. “I’ll go then. If you have a few men securing the passage out, then I can get them out.” 

Odda looks uncertain. “You planning on doing this alone?” 

It’s Titus’ turn to shrug. “Not quite alone if we have men securing the road out.” 

Odda sighs. “Titus...I fear one day your luck will run out.” 

Titus frowns a little. “Look. If I go in alone and I don’t succeed, there aren’t any more casualties than myself. If I do succeed then we’ve instilled some fear into the Imperials.”

It’s clear Odda wants to protest but he’d already seen Titus survive things that he really shouldn’t have. 

“If it’s too much….have one of them men securing the passageway to report back to us. We can send a couple of reinforcements.” 

Titus snorts. “By the time they arrive it’ll be too late. Just trust me on this one.” 

Odda inhales deeply as he glances around the table of men and women. “Does anyone object.” 

The room remains silent and it only has Odda sighing deeply. “Titus...your ancestors would have been incredibly proud of you.” 

Titus’ expression softens a little. “Maybe.” 

Odda pats Titus’ shoulder. “Go rest up. I will send for someone to wake you up when it’s time to go.” 

Titus doesn’t object as he slips past the other men and women to do just that. 

\---

Titus was crouched down by the shattered window of what used to be a post office when the sound of boots echoing off the cobblestone road catches his attention. When the owners of those boots comes into view, the second thing that catches his attention are the symbolic berets on the ragtag group of Crownsguards that round the corner. There was one in particular that drew Titus’ attention away from the group as a whole. He was yelling orders, which wouldn’t have been unusual if this particular Crownsguard wasn’t as young looking as he was, much too young to be apart of the Crownsguard, at least in this capacity. There had been a few that had thought Titus too young and he was eighteen but this boy had to be younger.

They all looked worse for wear and the longer Titus observed the more he could see that most of them were mediocre at best with their weapons. It was honestly a surprised they had survived this long and managed to make it this far into Sennheim. 

Save for one exception, the young Crownsguard with the commanding tone. 

The boy was a marvel to watch fight. The way he wielded his sword, his movements fluid albeit partially stunted...from what Titus believes might be a side injury. That also begged to question, why this boy was even out on the battlefield. 

The momentary surprise by their appearance and distraction had Titus realising the real reason he was currently hiding. He had been trying to assess the enemy to rescue the few civilians still in Sennheim from being taken by the Empire. Titus knows that time is working against him, but the fact that no airship could feasibly land in this area was working in his favour. 

With the appearance of these Crownsguard, they would be risking the safety of the civilians he had been hoping to save. Titus lets out a low frustrated snarl at the same time he can hear gun fire go off. 

Shit.

Leave it to the Crownsguard to ruin a well laid out plan. Another reason why both the Crown and Capital were unfit to lead anything. 

The moment Titus stands, the ground shakes under him, and small pieces of debris rain down onto him. His frown deepens as he brushes it off and he hops out of the window to catch sight of a large meca like suit that was currently standing in front of him and the civilians in the opposite building. 

The Crownsguards are clearly unaware of Drautos and that would have worked to his advantage if he had slipped around the battle to retrieve the civilians. There was no part of him that cared to help these men and that would have been mostly true if his gaze hadn’t landed on that same boy in the midst of all the chaos. 

It looked as if the boy was trying to take on the large robotic meca on his own, which currently was looking favourable with the way the boy was slowing down.Titus isn’t sure what exactly compels him forward but instead of creeping around the fight, he feels his feet take him towards it. 

He starts off walking but then his walking turns to jogging and before Titus is even aware he’s running. He tackles into the boy shielding him with his body the moment they collide with the ground. Behind them a stream of fire can be seen in exactly the spot the young boy in his arms had been standing in. 

There had been a slight whimper of pain in his arms but Titus doesn’t have enough time to assess any damage as he gets up, dragging the boy with him, and drags them both into a building behind the large meca suit. 

“Are you and your men idiots?! There are civilian lives at stake here!” Titus growls startling the frowning boy beside him. In fact, it just had the boy’s frown deepening as his arm moves to cradle his side. 

The action doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Hardly idiots.” The boy grumbles. 

“That’s where I would disagree.” 

It looks as if the boy wants to counter but the impact and shaking of a missile has both of them falling quiet. 

Titus and the boy both peer around the doorframe to the battle still raging on. In fact, it was less of a battle and more of a massacre but luckily a good many of the Magitek soldiers had been dispatched. It was just the large meca suit that they needed to deal with and as far as Titus was aware, no one had managed to destroy one, which was why Titus was feeling exceptionally frustrated. At the moment he was hoping that the missile hadn’t killed the people he had been trying to save. 

It seemed for the time being they had both settled in studying their enemy and a good thing too because it’s the young boy beside him that points out something interesting. 

“See that up there?” 

Titus’ gaze shifts from the flamethrowers on the meca’s suit to the slit around the top. “A cockpit.” He breathes out which has the boy nodding. 

Titus is assessing the area with more clarity and then glancing down at the smaller boy beside him. He studies him for perhaps a little too long before he’s glancing back out at their current issue. 

“If I could get you on top of that thing, do you think you could pry the cockpit open and kill the pilot?” Titus asks seriously. 

The boy doesn’t answer right away but he does stare out at their enemy before letting out a long breath. “I can but you’ll have to keep it distracted.” 

Titus nods. “I’ll make sure it only has eyes on me.” 

The boy looks grim but he nods as he in turn studies Titus. “How do you plan to get me on top of it?” 

Titus looks out. “I was going to throw you.” 

The boy’s brows knit together and it’s clear he’s having a hard time imagining that. 

Titus rolls his eyes. “The things back is to us. If we’re quick, I can throw you up. I’ll move out and place myself at a close enough distance from the thing. You run at me and I’ll throw you up, high enough so you can get on top. Then, I’ll move around to keep the attention off of you so you can get your job done.” 

The boy looks thoughtful but he seems to eventually nod. There was something in his eyes that gave Titus the impression that he no longer had anything to lose. “We’ll have to be quick.” 

Titus rolls his eyes a second time. “Obviously.” His distaste for the Crownsguard seeping into his tone.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by the young boy but he doesn’t seem to put too much stock on it as he slips behind Titus. “Ready when you are.”

Titus inhales deeply before nodding. He watches the events outside of their current hideout and when it looks like the most optimal time, he runs out. When he’s as close enough to the meca suit as he needs to be, he pivots on his heel, crouches down and places one hand under the other for the boy’s boost. 

The boy is just as quick to act because he’s running at Titus full tilt. There’s a split second where Titus swears he feels some sort of connection with the boy but that feeling disappears the moment he heaves the boy up and into the air. 

He doesn’t have enough time to think about the fact that the boy barely weighs anything. It was probably a good thing that that thought is pushed to the very back of his mind as he rounds the large suit to draw its’ attention on himself. 

There were a couple of times that he nearly gets caught by the stream of flames erupting from the thing but that all comes to a stop the moment Titus can hear the sound of death claim the pilot. He hadn’t been able to witness anything that had happened over his head but Titus takes several steps back and turns to face the meca suit and the boy. 

“Jump!” 

There is absolutely no hesitation from the boy. He launches off the meca suit and if it weren’t for Titus he’s positive the boy would have injured himself further. He catches the younger boy awkwardly against him but the force of the collision has Titus falling hard onto his back, the wind getting knocked out of him. The collision has the young boy in his arms whimpering once again in pain which Titus doesn’t have enough time to address. 

“It’s going to blow!” Someone, most likely a surviving Crownsguard, yells at them both. 

Titus doesn’t think. He rolls them over, leaps up as he drags the young boy up with him, and without letting go of his wrist starts running forward. 

The thing does blow. The aftershock of the explosion pushes both Titus and the young boy right off their feet. He can hear the boy cry out in pain as they collide painfully against the side of a cement wall. For a second time, Titus’ breath is knocked right out of his lungs and he’s gasping for breath for a good minute before he’s able to properly draw one in. 

It’s Titus that pulls himself together first and he’s careful when he regards the boy curled against the wall and clutching at his side. His frown deepens and he’s unsure how to proceed from here and so he crouches down beside the boy. 

“If you give me a minute to check on the civilians. I can look at your side.” Titus informs the boy which has him curling a little tighter into himself. 

“No.” The boy hisses out. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” 

Titus doesn’t look convinced and so he gently slides an arm around the boy and grabs at his wrist to tug it around Titus’ shoulders. He can hear the sharp intake of breath from the boy as he heaves him up and the shaky breathing. 

“I’ll just take you with me. Don’t trust you to stay put anyway.” Titus huffs as the short walk across to a decently intact building feels like an eternity with the way the boy against him sounds. 

It’s the moment that both he and the boy step past the doorless doorway that Titus can hear a sob of relief. 

“Titus! Oh gods….it’s so good to see you.” 

Titus can’t help his lips from thinning as he gently deposits the boy to the side. “Elvira. How many are there of you here?” 

“12.” She answers sounding heartbroken. 

Titus glances down and nods. “All 12 of you need to get out of here. Saepa and a couple of men are waiting down the road. They’ll take you to safety and eventually out of Sennheim.” 

Elvira frowns. “What about you?” 

TItus shakes his head. “I have a couple more things that I need to do.” 

This only has her frown deepening. “It’s suicide if you’re thinking about going to the docks.” 

Titus shrugs. He glances behind him briefly to catch the boy’s pale blues on him before he’s turning all his attention back on Elvira. 

“Don’t worry about me. Just worry about yourself. Lead them out before reinforcements decide to come.” 

There was a moment where Elvira wants to protest but when she looks behind her to the few children and elderly in their group she nods. “Thank you Titus.” She breathes out, her gaze falling on the boy sitting in the corner. 

“Should I take him with us?” She asks which has the boy straightening despite his pain and shaking his head. 

“No, ma’am. I’m staying here.” He answers which has Titus’ brow raising up curiously. 

Elvira, once again, looks as if she wants to protest but when she sees the look in the boy’s eyes she sighs, her shoulders dropping. “Very well. Both you boys come back to us, you hear.” 

Titus smiles grimly at her. “I’ll see you when I see you Elvira.” Is all he says which doesn’t earn him a smile but a reluctant nod. 

She’s already motioning for the group behind her to follow as they careful step out into the light and then they’re all slowly jogging in the direction Titus had told them to go. 

Titus watches them go until he can’t see them anymore and that’s when he turns his attention on the boy. “You should have gone with them.” 

The boy shakes his head a second time frowning deeply. “No. I’ll come with you.” 

“You’ll be more of a liability to me than anything.” Titus points out. 

The boy doesn’t seem to budge on this. “Then I’ll die. But that’s my choice.” 

There was something about the boy’s tone at the mention of death that had Titus feeling uneasy. He stands there looking displeased by this all before he’s moving to sit in front of the boy. 

“Fine but first….what’s your name?” 

The boy meets Titus’ gaze as he swallows a lump in his throat. “Cor. Cor Leonis.” 

Titus offers Cor his hand. “I’m Titus Drautos. I would say it’s a pleasure but under these circumstances, I’d have to disagree.” 

This seems to earn Titus a huffed and pained laugh but that was improvement enough. 

“Well Cor. Let’s find a better spot to spend the night. If you’re actually coming with me. I’m going to have to look at your wounds.” 

Cor’s expression scrunches together in distaste but eventually he nods. 

Titus offers Cor his hand which the boy takes without hesitation as he’s heaved up and off the floor. It was clear that their paths had crossed for a reason and if any of the Astrals were on their side maybe this wouldn’t be the end to what was already a strange start.


	4. A Hard Truth to Swallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to get this out so quickly. Haha. Usually it takes me two to three months before I'm even able to hunker down and write. 
> 
> So here's chapter 4! I have to give a big thanks to ArchangelUnmei because some of Cor's dialogue was extracted from our RP. It was just way too good to write my own version and her Cor is amazing. No worries! I did ask her if I could use it!! ;-; (Also is there way to dedicate just one chapter to my good friend ArchangelUnmei, if not, then I state this here! This chapter is dedicated to her and her Cor.)
> 
> Thanks to those who have stayed with me for this long. I really appreciate you! I hope this was worth the shorter....yet still long wait? xD
> 
> NOTE : Once again, I was too impatient to wait for anyone to edit this and therefore it has gone unedited. I will hopefully edit it later....at some point in time....maybe....>>
> 
> UPDATE: It has been edited! Thanks to my good friend Eli_Starr! Thank you! ;-;

They had found, a little distance away from where they had destroyed the mecha suit, an inn that was still mostly intact to spend the night.

Convenient. 

The moment they had entered, Titus noticed that one of the lobby walls had been blown in and that the ceiling in the room was caving in. However, the further they wandered in, the safer the inn seemed to be. Cor appeared to be struggling now that the adrenaline in their bodies was slowly subsiding. He could hear how laboured the boy’s breathing had become and, glancing sideways, was troubled to see how pale he looked. That was why the moment Titus had spotted a room, even though the door was missing, he had veered them into it and gently deposited Cor so he was sitting on the floor propped up against the bed. The room was dusty and it looked as if it had seen better days but, from one glance, Titus could see that it had everything they needed. They would only be staying one night: Cor’s wounds required attention and it was a good spot to keep out of Imperial sight. 

It wasn’t like Cor would be able to do any fighting. In fact, Titus was a little irritated that the boy had insisted on coming with him. There was no way he would be able to commit to what Titus had in mind. 

Thus,he was currently kneeling in front of the boy frowning, whilesaid boy was staring down at his lap trying to control his breathing. Titus sits back, folding his legs in front of him, finally planting his hands on his knees as he glowers.

“Take off your shirt.” 

Titus watches as Cor’s head snaps up and, if it was possible to turn even more pale, the boy had managed to achieve it. There was a fear in his eyes that Titus didn’t understand. It wasn’t as if he were planning to violate the kid. It was just that he had noticed that Cor’s movements were stunted by what might be an injury on the side. 

“No, I’m fine.” Cor insists as he wraps his arms tighter around himself -- curling into himself in a way that made Titus feel as if Cor thought he were going to hurt him.

Titus sighs, then falls silent as he stares at the boy, contemplating what to do. Eventually, his rigid posture sags and he moves his hands behind him as he leans back. Cor hadn’t said anything during this time either and it made for very bad company although, to be fair, Titus was hardly good company at the best of times. 

 

“How old are you anyway?” Titus breaks the silence, his frown still etched deeply in his features. 

This has Cor looking up. He’s silent for a little longer before he’s shifting to take the weight off of what Titus assumes is his injury. Titus almost looks ready to snap but then Cor heaves in a deep breath and meets Titus’ gaze. 

“Eighteen.” He answers but there’s a waiver in his tone as if he’s not sure why he’s lying.

Lips thin and Titus sits up. “Don’t bullshit me. I’m eighteen. How old are you really?” 

Cor doesn’t look ready to budge from his answer and Titus is about to open his mouth to protest but Cor beats him to the punch. 

“Fifteen.” Cor exhales as he closes his eyes and sags back against the side of the bed. 

The answer has Titus’ brows knitting together. Cor was way too young to be in the Crownsguard... So, why the hell was he here?. Titus thought that there had only been something wrong with the decision to retract the wall to the outer edges of Insomnia but this….this topped the cake. There should be no reason, not even one, that Cor was here. 

“I can’t, in good conscious, let you come with me in that case.” Titus growls.

Cor is trying to sit up but he looks a little winded. There was a wild look in his eyes that Titus couldn’t decipher. “No.” He practically hisses. “I’m coming. My choice.” 

Titus snorts. “Let me look at your torso and maybe I’ll consider it. I can overpower you easily in your state.” 

Cor looks almost panicked by that statement and Titus reels back a little. He’d seen genuine fear there and he hadn’t done anything to merit a look like that. 

Titus lets his shoulders slump as he moves to his small pack to pull out a bottle of water that he offers Cor, almost as if it were a peace offering. Cor’s eyes flicker between the bottle and Titus’ face before he takes it and drinks a generous amount. 

“Thank you…” Cor murmurs, his eyes downcast as if he were ashamed that he had let Titus see fear in him. 

Titus takes the water back when it’s offered to him, taking a drink himself.. He needed a new approach,so he inhales deeply to let his mind clear. He studies Cor again and can see that there are special badges on the boy’s uniform that ranked him as someone fairly high up. 

There was also the royal coat of arms which designated that Cor was not only a Crownsguard but, more specifically, a personal guard to the King. It has Titus feeling uneasy. 

“You’re too young to even be in the Crownsguard and yet your uniform tells me you’re of high rank. Why?” 

There... That was something a little more amicable. It diverted them from any discussion about Cor’s injuries, which was what they needed at the moment. 

Titus can see Cor tense and then flinch from pain, some sort of expression flickers in Cor’s eyes before the boy is sagging once again. It almost looked as if he really had nothing to lose anymore.

“I used to be the King’s personal guard….even the Prince’s.” 

Titus is watching carefully, his eyes narrowing a little bit at what was being said. What kind of monsters would let a kid guard them? 

“At fifteen.” 

Cor shakes his head. “Joined at thirteen.” 

Titus jaw tightens which seems to confuse Cor. 

“I knew I had reason to hate the Caelums.” Titus growls lowly. 

Cor’s eyes widen. “No, Prince Regis has nothing to do with this.” 

Titus’ gaze remains narrowed. “But King Mors does?” 

Cor’s mouth falls shut and he doesn’t say anything more. 

Titus needs to remind himself to relent on his accusations or else he knows that Cor will shut down. And if he shut down, there would be no way the boy would allow Titus to treat his injuries… No, what he needed now was to get Cor to open up to him. 

To feel safe. 

Titus runs a hand through his hair as he tries to figure out how to navigate this situation. He’s not typically good with people and now, it seemed, he was dealing with a person that was just as difficult.. 

“I...” Titus starts but then stops to sigh and shake his head. “I don’t get why you want to keep hurting especially in a situation like this.” 

This seems to get some sort of reaction from Cor because the boy actually looks at him and keeps looking at him rather than immediately looking away.

“We’re already getting shit on. If you actually want to come with me... I want you to be feeling at least a little better. I want to bring hell to the Imperials and if you’re of the same mindset, please let me look at your injuries.” Titus rationalizes. 

Cor is quiet, which was becoming normal, however, not too long after the boy is slowly shrugging out of his coat. Titus can see the pain Cor is feeling in his expression when he pulls off his shirt and then moves to pull off his under shirt. 

It’s what Titus finds under Cor’s clothes that has him feeling sick to his stomach. The boy looked as if he had gotten severely beaten. His entire body was black and blue. There were some areas that looked more greenish as if the bruising wasn’t sure what it was trying to achieve. 

There is a ring of rough bruises along Cor’s wrists and around the base of his neck. Titus can feel his anger rising and he’s not able to really make note of everything that’s wrong with this picture. 

However, it was clear that most of these, if not all of them, had been accrued long before Cor had arrived to Sennheim. 

Titus’ words get caught in his throat. A weight falls between them and once again Cor is looking down, away from him. 

He has to swallow his anger down several times -- his adam’s apple bobbing as he tries not to shake with the rage that had permeated through to his very bones.

“Titus?” Cor asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

Titus has no doubt that the boy can feel anger radiating off of him. 

“Stay here.” Titus grunts out. “I’m going to the herbalist across the street...get you some salve.” 

Titus hates that Cor looks baffled by his reaction. His anger taking a stronger hold around him.Cor’s next words fuel it even more. 

“I’m fine.” Cor insists but it was clear Titus was not even remotely convinced. “Leave the salve for someone who actually needs it.” 

That was the final straw. 

“Shut up! What in Ifrit’s fucking infernal do you mean for someone who needs it?!” Titus wants to yell but it comes out as a low dangerous rumble -- hushed even. 

This shuts Cor up,blinking at Titus instead. 

Titus is already getting up and he hears a whimper from Cor as the boy tries to get up and stop him. 

“What are you doing?!” 

Cor doubles over, winded, and then falls back onto his ass -- tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “Please! Titus….just bind me up. I don’t need salve.” He wheezes. “What choice do I even have anyway?”

That sets Titus off even more. “What choice do you have?! You have all the choice you need! If your crown sent you here to fight then you have the choice to receive proper medical care!” 

Not that salve and binding Cor’s ribs was proper medical care... But it was more than just binding them.

“Stay here!” Titus snarls and he turns around to make his way out.

“I was sent here to die!” Cor hisses, a strangled look on his face that would have given Titus the impression that Cor is horrified about the tears that were leaking down his cheeks, if he had been facing him.  
That statement causes Titus to freeze, the weight of it hangs over him as pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place. He turns around and he can see that Cor is shaking, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

The boy is biting his lip, trying to keep himself in check, but he was falling apart and it...it actually tugged at Titus’ heart strings. 

“I’ve become a liability to the Crown, and this way Lucis can hold us up as a shining example of bravery on the battlefield without the inconvenience of having to deal with me after.” Cor swallows hard, tone dark and bitter. There was almost a wild look in the boy’s eyes that had Titus stepping forward. “It doesn’t matter, Titus. Even if I survive the battle, I won’t survive going back to Insomnia, so leave the medicine for someone who can still make use of it.” 

These words change the energy of the room: a heaviness settling in, a dark almost suffocating, heaviness. The fact that the King would send this boy to die on this battlefield, that Cor, only fifteen years old, could have done something so terrible to deserve this fate. Titus had always been told that the Caelums were the pillar of morality in Lucis, that there was no way they could possibly do anything as horrific as the Nifs. However, seeing Cor with all of these wounds and hearing that he was sent here to die, that not only were they killing this likely innocent boy but there was no hope in Ifrit’s Inferno to save Sennheim, or that they even cared about the town...

It added a whole new layer of emotions rolling around inside of Titus.

“Then don’t go back.” Titus exhales voice filled with restrained anger. “Why should you go back to a place that has sent you to die? Or a place that clearly doesn’t care about their own citizens.”

That comment was for both Sennheim and Galahd.

He moves back towards Cor, looking the boy dead in the eye. “If we survive….if you survive, you can help me extract revenge on the Empire for what they have done here. You can find a new purpose, one that doesn’t take your life out of your control.”

Cor shakes his head and Titus’ brows knit together because he couldn’t understand this boy -- not at this moment, anyway. The boy was blinking back tears and his jaw tightens in determination. 

“I have to go back.” 

Titus remains still, his frown deepening. “No, you don-”

He doesn’t get to finish because Cor interrupts him. “Regis…” Cor starts, his voice growing more steady. “The Prince, he’s worth all of this, every bruise and drop of my blood. Titus, he really does care about the citizens. He argued against pulling the Wall. I won’t abandon my vows to him.” 

Titus takes a step back trying to figure out how these words make him feel. In part, he was doing the same, but rather than for a single person, he was doing it to keep his hometown safe. 

He doesn’t know much about the Crown Prince. He hadn’t ever really been interested in reading any of the tabloids concerning the young Caelum but the firmness in Cor’s words—the way his entire body changes from trembling at the gravity of their situation, of his situation, to this unyielding devotion—has Titus rethinking a few things. It doesn’t show on his features, but he respects Cor’s decision. 

“Then let me get that salve, Cor. If you want to go back to him, don’t be an idiot and let’s do this right.” 

Titus’ words seem to catch Cor off guard because he actually smiles. It’s a feeble smile but there was a look of gratitude, if not complete and utter exhaustion. 

“You’re not going to budge on this are you?” 

Titus snorts, rolls his eyes, and then shakes his head. “No, so lay down on that bed and wait for me to come back.” 

Cor nods shakily but he moves to sit back against the bed, turning to grasp the side and pull himself upwards. He groans when he moves to lay down, his expression tight from the pain. 

Titus turns to leave but he’s halted a second time.

“Titus! Wait…” Cor calls out. 

The older boy glances over his shoulder at Cor,brow arched. 

“Be careful, okay?” 

Titus actually smirks at that. “Asking the impossible but I’ll try.” 

That seems enough of a reassurance for Cor because he shifts on the bed trying to curl up in a way that doesn’t hurt, although Titus suspects that, at this point, just being alive hurt for the poor boy. 

Titus is glad that no other words are exchanged. He had a mission to complete before it got too dark.


	5. Death Over the Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extremely long wait. Things had gotten hectic...I mean they still are but it's about time. xD
> 
> This is also unedited and I will eventually look through it to edit it properly. This chapter took a mind of its own and went in a different direction than I had anticipated. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy nonetheless. : ) Thanks for sticking around.

Titus dives over the reception counter of the inn the moment he catches sight of some curious Imperials. Luckily, the sound of rubble crunching under the foot of one of their large mecha’s was enough to mask the sound of his body colliding hard against the wall.

He knows that he’ll never get used to having the wind even partially knocked out of his lungs, which has him cursing his carelessness. Titus wheezes a little as he lays on the dirty floor to give himself some time to draw in air. The sound of the mecha’s footsteps recedes the deeper into the town it gets. A part of Titus wants to follow after them, dispatch them, and then come back to grab the ointment for Cor. But, he knows that he is no match against a mecha and especially on his own. If it hadn’t been for Cor agreeing to being vaulted, Titus feels like there would have been a higher chance of failure.

A part of him can’t let himself think that he would actually fail. He’d been lucky so far and he can’t help himself from feeling as if he’s skilled enough to get himself out of most situations. Titus is certain that at the moment no one would disagree with him especially with the trust, or resignation, Sennheim’s small rebellion force had in him. 

When he’s caught his breath, Titus pushes himself up with a grunt, and carefully glides towards the exit of the inn. He peers across the street at the herbalist clinic and then glances from one side to the other before bolting across. He thanks whatever Astral is watching over him because the door is open and it’s a smooth, shoulder press against the door, as it grants him entrance. 

The clinic was quaint in size. It used to be run by an older couple from Galahd -- one with ties to the Hausos, a family from Galahd who’ve mastered the art of healing through generations of practice. 

This was the clinic that Titus would find himself in on a many occasions for burns, bruises, scrapes, or even nastier wounds. Never once did they fail in their prescription. Now, Titus was no expert but he’d been dealt a good many blows in his lifetime that the scent of the salve he was constantly using was etched in his mind. It was always the one that the clinic kept in stock for various reasons, Titus being one of them. 

He lets a sigh out at the state of the place. It wasn’t currently the most ruined building in Sennheim but it did pain Titus to see it so...dirty and abandoned when before it was always pristinely clean and occupied. 

Titus knows better than to let his mind wander to the past. He rounds the counter and just like muscle memory, grabs an oval canister from the spot Mr. Drogo would repeatedly occupy on his visits. He pulls it open, gets a whiff of the salve, nods to himself and then closes it to pocket it. 

He stands there for a second before he decides to go through each drawer and cabinet. Titus locates a big enough bag to store everything he can find inside and then, as he starts backing towards the door. He pauses. To take in every last detail of the small clinic. 

“Sorry, Mr.Drogo.” Titus sighs.

He knew the man wouldn’t be too torn that Titus was taking so many things. It didn’t look as if anyone would be coming back to Sennheim for a long time, or ever even. That thought upsets him but he pushes those feelings down, a ritual at this point with how bad he was constantly feeling when he let his mind run. 

Titus heaves the bag of ointments, salves, and whatever more into his arms. In particular one arm, as he holds it close and carefully to his chest. The salve for Cor was tucked in his back pocket where he didn’t have to worry about it getting mixed with the others and then have to locate it through smell alone. 

Titus didn’t want to admit that he’d never really memorized the name. It was always the scent and the cooling effects that stuck in his memories and seeing as Mr.Drogo always knew exactly why he’d shown up, there had never been a necessity to utter the name. 

He edges closer to the window before he’s stepping out. The sun had nearly set and Titus had the luxury of hiding in the shadows the short way back to the inn. He’s glad he doesn’t have any encounters and he makes it back to the room where he’s pleased Cor had not left.

That had been a momentary worry but at the same time Titus knew that Cor wouldn’t be able to get too far with his injuries. The boy is exactly where he had left him, curled on his “good” side. Titus stands there watching him as if he’d learn the secret to the boy’s traumatic past. 

He doesn’t learn anything except that Cor was in pain. Which, has Titus knocking lightly on the wall beside him to announce himself. 

“Not dead, surprisingly.” Titus goes on to say which has Cor snorting lightly. 

“I can see that,” Cor replies as he tries to keep from wincing the moment he turns onto his back. 

Titus carefully deposits the bag of goods onto the floor before he reaches into his back pocket to pull the salve out. “Can you sit up?” 

Cor moves to do so but it’s clear he’s struggling and so Titus sits on the bed, slides one arm around him and carefully sits him up. Clearly, Titus could be as careful as he wanted but it wasn’t really going to lessen Cor’s pain. There is a slightly appreciative nod from the younger boy and to Titus’ surprise, Cor leans against him -- almost curling into his side. 

Titus doesn’t realise it now but the vulnerability he was seeing in Cor, even though it was clear the boy was strong as steel, had dislodged some sort of need to protect him. To shield this boy from any more horrors that Eos wanted to throw his way. Perhaps, it was his ancestral need to protect something after such a failure with Sennheim. 

“Thanks.” Cor exhales sounding bone-dead exhausted. 

It was a good thing the younger boy was shirtless or that would be another struggle they would have to deal with. Titus keeps his arm wrapped firmly around Cor bringing the container of salve up and closer to his occupied arm so that he can pull it open. Already, the waft of the salve was permeating into the room. It was strong and it would do Cor well. 

“Smells nice.” Cor murmurs. 

Titus frowns a little as he feels the boy sag even more against his side. “Yeah, it does. Focus on that smell.” 

He scoops some of the salve onto his fingers and rubs it around to warm it up. When Titus deems it warm enough he’s careful in the way he applies it. He repeats the action for other parts and only pauses when he spots something on Cor’s shoulder that he hadn’t noticed before. It makes it difficult for him to keep quiet especially with the bubble of anger that surfaces.

“You were branded like an animal…!” Titus hisses as he lets his eyes trace over the tattoo on Cor’s shoulder. One more ugly mark to add to the array of blues and blacks covering Cor’s ribcage and sides. It was clearly the skull of the Lucis Caelum with Mors' number branded just below it. 

In ownership. Clearly. 

The hiss stirs Cor from his momentary stupor, having been lulled a little into sleep at how gentle Titus had been with him. It takes a second for the words to settle before Cor goes tense against him. Titus thinks, for a second, that Cor is going to try and pull away but the boy lets his head hang, trying to shield his eyes from Titus. Not that he was able to see anything with the way they were positioned. 

It’s silent and Titus decides not to press on this one if Cor’s slight trembling was anything to go off of. “Never again then.” He exhales. “You’re going to step forward and make your own path from now on.” 

Cor doesn’t budge, at least not for a while, before he peeks up from the fringes of his very short bangs. Titus tries to smile but he’s also tired, both physically and emotionally. He knows what’s going to happen tomorrow and with Cor’s injuries he feels bad that they’d spoken of a better future only for it to live briefly in thought and nothing more. 

“Never again.” Cor repeats quietly. 

Titus pulls away so he can grab gauze and dressing to wrap Cor’s torso up. He reaches into the bag he’d brought from the herbalist and he kneels in front of the younger boy to get to work. There is a brief moment where their eyes meet, and Titus feels that same feeling from the battle, a strange sort of connection...Camaraderie even, before he tears it away to focus on wrapping Cor. 

When he’s done, Titus pulls back completely to set his sword on the desk pressed against the far wall. “Now rest.” He huffs. 

Titus can sense that Cor hasn’t budged from his sitting position. “You’re just as tired as me. We can both take shifts.” He insists. 

Titus turns and glowers. “No. You need it more than me. Don’t argue with me on this one. I don’t have nearly as many injuries as you nor any that are that severe. Take the rest.” 

Cor looks about ready to protest but he closes his mouth. It was clear he was learning but it was also clear that his body was begging him to listen to Titus. It’s not hard to assume that Cor had been through the wringer and ultimately had gotten less rest than him regardless of when the attack had occurred. 

“Okay. But when we get out of this, I owe you.” Cor breathes out as he slowly lowers himself back down onto the bed. 

Titus’ lips curve up at that. “Sure. We can talk about that after.” 

They felt like empty promises to Titus. The battle at the docks was hardly going to be something either of them survived. Too many in numbers and if one mecha suit caused that much issues alone, Titus can’t imagine the problems they would face if there were more than two, which there would most likely be. 

He goes to settle down by the wall as he leans back against it with a sigh.

Maybe he wouldn’t feel so conflicted if he had died the same night his mother had…

Titus shakes those thoughts from his mind and focuses on the fact that he was going to bring Ramuh’s judgment down on the Empire and he would do it at the cost of his life. Except, for once, Titus felt bad that it would also be at the cost of Cor’s life. 

He glances up to study the boy on the bed and he feels an ache at the fact that he’d been dragged into things he shouldn’t have been, not at his age. Except, there was nothing to be done about it now. They were both here and they would both die honorably. 

It’s that thought that gets Titus through the rest of the night.

So, when the first rays of sunlight pass through the blinds, Titus shifts and then stretches. He’s up moments later to go fetch his sword and then moves to the bed where he pauses. Titus takes in how young Cor looks asleep and how much of a difference it was from the boy he’d seen fighting the day before.

He could just leave Cor here. 

If he didn’t wake Cor up, the boy wouldn’t be any the wiser and he’d have his second chance. Except, at the same time, Titus knew exactly how he would feel if he woke up to the realisation that he had been left behind. 

No, Titus had more respect for his boy than that, and so he nudges the bed with his foot. 

He knew better than to touch a person who’d been through hell and high water to get to this point. And, it was enough of an action because Cor’s eyes blink open. Once again, there was momentary panic before the boy seems to figure out where he is and immediately calms down. Cor blinks a couple of times and then slowly pushes himself up. Titus catches sight of a cringe of pain but his movements were marginally better from the day before. It had probably helped that he’d made sure to keep the gauze around Cor’s ribs tight enough that they keep everything together but loose enough not to really harm him.

“Time to go?”

Titus nods as he moves to grab the bag of healing goods and straps it over his back. “The early bird catches the worm, as they say.” 

Cor nods as he slides off the bed, recuperates his sword and moves to stand beside Titus. Their gazes meet again, a quiet understanding passing between them before Titus takes the first step out of the room and then out of the inn. 

It was just as beautiful of a morning as it had been during the fateful speech. Titus wondered if beautiful days now symbolized great destruction and devastation. They were both walking to their death and Titus would have thought a gloomier day would have been more fitting. 

When he glances over at Cor, it almost looks as if the boy is having similar thoughts, his pale blues meet Titus’ darker ones. 

“Ready?” Titus asks. 

Cor inhales and exhales deeply before he nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

They both share one more look before they set out in the direction of the rising sun.


	6. Enter Stage Left: The Prince and His Entourage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So........this took me forever. I apologize profusely for that! 
> 
> Finally! Chapter 6!!!! 
> 
> A streak I clearly have to keep, unedited for now. Since it took me so long I just wanted to get this posted and get those juices flowing again. I guess we'll see how long it takes me to write the next chapter, haha. 
> 
> Oh man.... ;-;

It was the sound of clashing blades and gunfire that echoed throughout the port. The sun hadn’t quite reached its peak but it was slowly climbing up to signal midday. It had felt much longer than just a couple hours of fighting. It felt like an eternity with the way Titus was panting to draw in a breath. The way sweat seemed to be soaking through his clothes.

Breathing? He’s not even sure he knows what that is anymore especially when Titus is lunging from one enemy to the next. He’d, unfortunately, lost Cor at the onset of the attack and Titus suspected it was a play by the Imperials to keep them apart so they wouldn’t be able to do as much damage. 

Not that he felt he was doing much now. Titus had fallen into survival mode where every attack was calculated to buy himself more time until his exhausted mind could think of a way to get out of this seemingly impossible situation. 

The Imperials had greatly underestimated them both if they’d lasted this long, he assumes. Titus hopes that Cor is fairing a little better than him seeing as if he did survive he would like to see the boy again. Thoughts of seeing Cor again have to, unfortunately, be pushed aside for the moment especially when he narrowly misses getting shot not once but twice. The bullets graze past his left bicep and the other one manages to graze his cheek. The last thing he needed was a bleeding cheek and somehow he manages enough annoyance and will-power to wipe some of the blood that he could feel accumulating along with the scrape. He brings his hand back onto the handle, adjusting to make up for the fact that he can’t keep a proper stance. 

They were pushing him towards the docks, trying to trap him, probably end him in some theatrical way for their own sick pleasure. Titus wouldn’t let that happen. He would try not to let it happen even if his body protested loudly. 

The attacks stop momentarily which gives Titus the chance to catch his breath, well attempt to catch his breath. He’s still panting harshly, every fibre of his body exhausted. He’s honestly unsure how he’s still standing and how he still has a firm grip on his sword. He’s trembling, shoulders hunched, and posture so terrible there were even more gaps in his guard. 

The day had started off beautiful but clouds had rolled in and the breeze, although a foreboding sign weather wise, had been nice in the way that it kept him from overheating. 

Titus stands near the edge of the dock, certain now, that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. There were too many enemies to cut down and he was on his very last leg of energy. If lucky, he’d cut down two maybe three, but that would be the end. He doesn’t want the defeat to show on his face but he’s sure that his stance is evidence enough to the Niffs that they had this in the bag. 

That is. 

Until Titus can feel a shift in the wind. He swallows, rather tries to swallow even though he’s parched, and straightens, as best as he can. He can hear something. He’s not sure what it is but it’s a faint and distinct sound. A part of him feels as if that’s the sound of death but then the unthinkable occurs. 

The whistling becomes louder, distracting the enemy even as weapons rip through them almost as if they were made out of paper. Titus’ stance falters as he watches something unbelievable occur before his eyes. He doesn’t recognize any of these weapons and he certainly knows of no one in Sennheim who is able to do this and yet it is happening. 

Titus takes one painful step forward and he manages to cut down one Imperial soldier that had survived the onslaught of magical weapons before he really can’t hold onto his sword and it drops from his grasp. It clunks loudly on the wooden dock, rings even before Titus’ first knee follows. 

The impact would have hurt if his veins weren’t pumping so much adrenaline from the fight alone. The second knee hits the floor and Titus feels like he’s about to fall but instead of hitting hard wet wood, he feels strong arms wrap around him and pull him up. 

“Cor! This your friend?” A voice calls out. 

Titus doesn’t recognize it but at the moment he doesn’t care. He brings a hand up to clutch at the sleeve of this man’s jacket as he tries to anchor himself. His head felt incredibly light and all he wanted to do was sleep. 

“Titus!” 

Now that was a voice Titus recognized and he shifts in the larger man’s hold to catch sight of Cor and a group of men. 

“Not dead…” He exhales out, not entirely sure if anyone heard but he assumes the pat to his back was sign enough that this mysterious man had.  
Titus catches the upward curve of Cor’s lips at his assurance. “Not dead.” He repeats. 

“Clarus, we must hurry.” Regis reminds especially when they hear the wiring of a very large opponent. 

Titus can clearly connect the dots and he now knows he’s being heaved up by the Prince’s shield. It takes him a second to settle the spinning of his environment before he feels steady enough to keep himself up on his own. 

What he doesn’t expect is the lithe form of Cor who comes over to his side slipping an arm around his waist. Titus can’t help but let out an amused laugh which has Cor arching a brow at him. 

“It’s just you’re more injured than I am,” Titus explains. 

Cor’s lips curve up again and he shrugs. “Too much adrenaline to feel.” 

This only has Titus rolling his eyes as he slips his own arm around Cor. They could support each other. 

Neither of them notices the fact that both Regis and Clarus had paused to take in the sight of both boys. It’s a man named Cid, who Titus doesn’t realise he will get to know very well in the coming years, that catches all of their attention. 

“Not the fucking time to stand around! Let’s get baby crownsguard and his friend out of here before we’re all flayed to death by the damn Nifs!” 

Regis soft chuckle can be heard and Titus notices him nodding at Clarus who moves to stand in front of them. Another man, darker skinned, moves to their left. Titus later learns that the man’s name is Weskham, the trusted advisor to Prince Regis, a man that Titus will find that he will respect greatly. 

The sound of the royal arms can be heard as they whiz forward and into the enemy. It wasn’t only the sound but also a powerful electrifying feeling in the air as Regis walked forward occupying the enemies attention. 

Cid follows after Regis, showing incredible dexterity and agility as he wields his spear to dispatch the many foot soldiers that had appeared to cause them trouble. 

Titus shifts away from Cor as he straightens himself and then he’s catching the boy’s gaze. “Still have some juice left in you?” He asks as he jerks his head in the direction of the large mech. 

He watches as Cor studies the thing before he’s meeting his gaze and nodding. “Same as last time?” 

Titus’ lips curve in a determined smirk, almost arrogant without meaning to. “Same as last time.” He repeats in affirmation. 

Titus sheaths his sword and then he forces his exhausted body to jog forward which surprises both Weskham and Clarus. 

“Titus!” Clarus bellows clearly worried for the boy despite having only met him then. 

This is followed by a “Cor!” From Weskham but then both men fall impressively quiet the moment Titus heaves Cor up in the air. 

In spite of his injuries, Cor somehow lands more gracefully and he digs his katana into the edge of the cockpit, releasing the glass protecting the pilot. A sword ends the Nif’s life and then Titus has turned to ready himself for Cor’s descent -- the big jump. 

It’s a good thing that Clarus acts quickly because the moment Cor collides with Titus, the larger boy tips back, clearly off balance. Titus can feel strong arms and then a hard chest collide with his back and then stabilize him. 

“Shiva’s tits! You two must be cut from the same cloth.” Clarus scolds. 

The prince’s shield must notice something because his arms tighten around the both of them and he turns them, almost jarringly hard which evokes a small whimper from Cor, as the mech blows. 

There was that strong feel of magic in the air and if Titus wasn’t too occupied with keeping Cor in his arms, he would have seen Clarus’ shield appear over the larger man’s shoulder. 

“Clarus!” Regis can be heard calling out. 

“We’re fine, Reg! Don’t worry!” Clarus calls back after having shifted enough so he wouldn’t be yelling into Titus’ ear. “No one’s injured! Well, more injured.” 

Titus glances down at Cor who’s tucked his face against Titus’ shoulder and is only now peeking up from it. “You okay?” Titus asks which earns him a slight nod before Cor’s disentangling himself from Titus. 

There’s no complaint from Titus and he slips free from Clarus’ hold to look at the mess the explosion left behind. 

Weskham appears out of what seems like nowhere as he eyes both boys up, critically. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Cid bellows a little further away while waving his spear, almost dangerously, in the direction of where Titus assumes is some sort of transport that will take them away from Sennheim.

That thought has his heart aching and he can’t help glancing behind him at the smokey mess that was once his home.

It’s Cor tugging at his arm that snaps Titus back to the present and he heaves a sigh before he nods at the boy and follows after the rest of the group. 

The closer they got to escape, the heavier Titus felt. He’s not sure if it’s exhaustion finally and properly setting in or if it’s something else altogether. 

He does make note that everyone is still quite tense and both he and Cor were straggling behind as the older men spoke quietly to each other. Titus thinks quietly because of the sound of the waves and the wind which made it difficult to hear any of the conversation happening in front of them. 

Pale blues fall on Cor again and he notices that the boy is struggling. They’re both struggling but Titus also didn’t have former injuries to contend with and so he speeds up a bit to slide an arm around him. This seems to momentarily startle Cor before he’s relaxing against Titus side. 

“Thanks.” He exhales. 

Titus lets out a small hum of acknowledgment and he hates that he’s momentarily captivated by the way Cor looks when he’s glancing up at him through his lashes. It’s enough of a distraction because neither of them hears the sound of the enemy making their way behind them. 

A few enemies, in fact. 

Regis is the quickest one to act. He pierces the enemy through with his sword -- having warped from his place beside Clarus to Titus and Cor in a blink of an eye. 

The sword pierces through the MTs throat gurgling before a loud unnatural scream emits from it and the thing goes down. 

Both Titus and Cor look surprised by their lack of awareness that they had been in danger. Regis, on the other hand, has his sword clutched in his hand looking relieved that he was able to get to them on time. 

“You boys okay?” Regis asks as he glances over his shoulder at them. 

Titus manages a nod and he thinks that Cor does too. They don’t get more than that before Regis is lunging forward to dispatch another enemy. The sound of the second MT dying masks the firing of a gun from an enemy half hidden between two buildings, which couldn’t be more than 10 metres away. 

“Regis!” Titus can hear Clarus bellow as he shoots forward trying to sprint towards his Prince in hopes of intercepting what was inevitably going to happen. 

Neither Cor nor Titus are able to react and in a split second, despite everything seemingly happening in minutes, the bullet makes contact with Regis’ knee pulling out a cry of immense pain from the prince. He goes down but Clarus is there to catch him and tug the Prince tightly into his arms. 

Titus can’t see the shield’s face but he can feel the panic and worry radiating off of him. He can even feel how tense and rigid Cor goes against his side which has him glancing at the boy. Somehow, Cor had managed to look even paler than he had before which was worrisome but Titus had a feeling this had nothing to do with Cor’s injuries. 

Clarus is already heaving Regis up in his arms and from what Titus can see over Clarus shoulder, the prince is pressing his face against it trying to mask that he’s in pain. 

Titus can see blood on the ground and he can hear Weskham jogging towards them. 

“Clarus.” Weskham’s voice is tight with worry. “We go. Now.” 

It looks as if Clarus is swallowing around a lump, jaw impressively tight as he nods mechanically. “On it.” Is all he manages to get out with how strained his voice sounds. 

Titus has to urge Cor to move with him as they follow Weskham and Clarus. Luckily, Cid had pulled back to stay close to them, brows drawn together and lips incredibly thin. He pats Cor’s shoulder something unspoken passing between them before they reach the threshold out of Sennheim.

If it had been under any other circumstance, Titus would have paused to try and memorize Sennheim. He didn’t realise that this would be the last time he’d ever visit his hometown again. Nor did he realise how drastically his life was going to change now that he’s personally met the Prince and he’d grown a fond attachment to Cor. 

Cid places a hand on the small of Titus back as he urges him forward where Clarus was already settling Regis in the back seat of the Regalia. Weskham had a first aid kit open ready to inspect Regis’ wound. 

The air smelled like the ocean. The hand around his heart tightened but Cor’s slight shift against his side has him finally realising the heavy implications of the last several days. 

Sennheim was no more and as far as Titus was concerned would probably be no more.


End file.
